


Demon Prince

by bombcollar



Category: Dark Souls III
Genre: Gen, Lorian/Demon Prince if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombcollar/pseuds/bombcollar
Summary: The last demon returns to the first human to show him kindness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of loosely chronological demon prince pieces from my blog. Ringed City spoilers but barely.

Soft-hearted Lorian pitied the demons his kingdom waged wars against. Wars in only the loosest sense, battalions of knights sent into the ruins of the demons’ underground caverns, slaughtering them wholesale for the potential that they might become a threat. Their Flame was a false Flame, the church of Lothric taught, a corruption of the First, and it should be snuffed out that it did not beguile men with its sickly light.

They felt it only fitting that one prince should slay another, and sent him to face their sovereign. Lorian demanded that he should duel the prince on his own, that it should be a fair fight. So very noble, of course they agreed.

The battle raged for what felt like days, both warriors pushing their own endurance to the limit. Lorian, with his divine blood, and the demon prince with his flame borne from the primordial fire, but it seemed they were equally matched. Eventually they both grew exhausted, and words began to come out where there had only been grunts and hisses.

The demon whispered to him as his blade clashed against gnarled claws, his teeth clicking, his breath hot in Lorian's ear. He spoke of a way for them to both be satisfied, and to bring the war to an end. Lorian listened, for he had seen too many knights fall in this meaningless conflict, and he would do whatever he could to avoid more burnt bodies, the scent of boiled blood rich in the air. He cleft the demon in two, splitting him seamlessly and splattering himself with molten red innards, burned badly even through his armor. With this supposed killing blow, his sword took in the demon’s fire, and the two halves of the demon fell into the Abyss. 

Though the creature that howls and shrieks with two voices in the pit of the great tree curses humanity, curses the foolish pride of men, it does not curse the prince. Never the prince.

* * *

 

_The demon falls, steam rising from its blackened skin as it makes contact with the stagnant water, obscuring its form. A difficult battle, two foes to contend with at once, each burning with a fury whose heat far exceeded that of mere flame, but it was finally over. Or so it seemed._

_With a great crackling, rending sound, the demon stirs, its hide splitting and a glow growing from within, until it rips open, enormous wings arching from its writhing body and flinging molten lava like pus from a burst abscess. However, it does not turn upon its challengers, but leaps into the air, vaulting itself upwards with a beat of its wings and clinging to the rotting inside of the tree. It digs its talons in with all its strength, scrambling up the sides, grunting and hissing in what sounds like frustration as it carves furrows in the bark._

_No heed is paid to the Undead below as it clambers up and out, its incandescent orange form vanishing into the ash-laden sky. The Demon Prince was finally free._

* * *

 

“Why did he come here?”

_He has nowhere else to go._

The demon lies with his tail curled around himself, great exhausted wings folded to his back. His fire is cooled and simmering, held deep within his core to preserve its flickering light until he recovers. He has made a long journey, passing through many worlds on his climb up the great archtree from the dreg heap.

“I thought you killed him.”

_So did everybody else._

Lorian lays a hand on the demon’s gnarled arm, mindful of the delicate webbed membrane. Even at rest he fills the room with warmth, seeping into the normally chilly stone. Lothric, emboldened, creeps closer, almost to his brother’s side. Lorian had never been eager to talk about the war against the demons, often excusing himself when the topic came up among his fellow veterans. He had not reveled in his victory, and though back then most had attributed it to the trauma of war, it was now very clear that there was more to it. 

“…is he going to be staying long?

 _I don’t know. Maybe._ Lorian’s fingers trace a path over the demon’s bark-like flesh, over the whorls and knots. _He might want to see more of the surface world. He’s been away so long._

And there was so much for him to see after a life of little more than fire and darkness. Even with the world dying, teetering on the precipice, from on high, with the wind bearing him up, it might even be beautiful. Lorian wraps his hand around the demon's claws. They slowly close, holding him in their gently smoldering grip. The last of their kind. Heirs with nothing left to inherit. One whose fire was slowly fading, and two who could not bear to burn. 


End file.
